


The Death Of a Hero

by lsularak



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Death, Someone stop me, a lot of the characters are just, aftermath of death, also will i ever stop writing Matt being injured and/or dying?, anyway, i dont know how to tag this my bad, just basically a lot of me writing death and stuff, mentions and vague references, my bad - Freeform, probably not, the city matt loves feat. handling daredevils death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18863602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsularak/pseuds/lsularak
Summary: Daredevil was dead.Daredevil,theDaredevil, wasdead. It almost sounded like a joke.another one that is exactly what it sounds like





	The Death Of a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> me @ me: ok. you have ALMOST finished the third piece for your series. you should finish it. you should finish any one of the TEN THINGS YOU HAVE THAT ARE NOT DONE-  
> also me: write sad
> 
> someone needs to like. i dunno fight me or something because honestly i could be so productive if i would finish the things i staRt  
> tragically, i probably wont do that because i am a horrible procrastinator.  
> anyway, enjoy this short sad thing and im sorry in advance
> 
> as usual i appreciate any constructive criticism!!!

Daredevil was dead.

Daredevil, _the_ Daredevil, was _dead_. It almost sounded like a joke. Almost like saying someone killed God. It just didn’t make _sense_ , it was a _joke_ , it didn’t just _happen_.

Except it had happened. Someone found Daredevil dead, leaned against the brick of a building in some deserted alley, having bled out. They tried to get him help, no one wanted to believe he had died, because even if he was _technically_ a criminal, he did so much good, he didn’t even mind that the city had branded him a killer, because he _loved_ the city, he had only wanted what was best for it; and in trying to provide that, he had lost his life.

It was in the papers the next morning.

This man – who was apparently a _lawyer_ , who was _blind_ , who had friends and family that _wailed_ when they heard the news – had given his life for a city that showed no gratitude. No one wondered over how a blind man could do what he did – they knew that weirder things had happened, they knew of the avengers – but instead they mourned. Mourned for the loss of a protector they had never asked for, a protector who had just done what he could to make the suffering he heard every night _stop_ , because he had a heart too big for his body, even if he never admitted it, never saw it that way.

Mourned the loss of a protector, one with the human name of Matthew Michael Murdock, Esquire; who even chose a day job that would allow him to defend the innocent. The man with the Devil in him, as his partner claimed Matt believed. A man so set on saving others, that he never thought to try to save himself; who never thought he deserved saving. Who went out every night to break his bones and tear his skin to keep his city in one piece, to make it a little less corrupt.

At least he succeeded. His death was not in vain. He managed to get rid of Fisk and so many others between his death that it couldn’t be counted.

(The papers counted. They had an estimated number by the end of the week.)

No one called him the Devil anymore. They called him an angel, a savior, their protector, guardian. Anything but the Devil, because he could never really be a devil. He had always been a guardian angel; they were just unable to see it.

Crime, surprisingly, remained low after his death. Maybe they were just worried that it was a myth, that he was still around. Maybe they thought he was really the Devil, and that he would still be able to get to them after his death. Maybe it was just too much of a shock to do much else. Maybe they had some respect for him. 

It was impossible to know.

It wasn’t too important, though, there were more pressing matters, like finding a way to get an entire city to a funeral. It was difficult; his friends insisting he would have wanted a small funeral, he wasn’t interested in all the attention his death would have; and the city begging for a larger one, they wanted a chance to see their hero and pay respects.

 

Thirteen people attended his funeral.

Two more watched from a distance.

 

A speech was given the next day. 

A speech that talked about the man the so-called Devil really was, that explained how he did what he did and why, that let the city know their hero just a bit better, now that they would never have the chance to know him any other way.

They found out their hero was a Catholic. A practicing Catholic with ears that could hear a cry for help from blocks away, and who laid down his life to try to stop others from suffering by answering the cries he heard, the cries that pierced his ears as well as any knife.

They also learned the truth behind their hero’s disappearing act so long ago. Why, after Midland Circle, Daredevil was nowhere to be found; and why, once, two men arrested had claimed that the Devil handed them a weapon and asked his God for forgiveness as he kneeled on the ground before them, waiting for a killing blow that never came.

They learned of Elektra, the woman with the Devil wrapped around her finger, who had been held by him when she took her last breath. They learned of the Punisher, the Iron Fist, Luke Cage and Jessica Jones; they learned of the Hand, the Chaste, and the vigilantes filling the gaps and handling them where the law failed to. They learned of how the Devil had nearly died more than once, how he always managed to make it home, managed to see his friends in time to be saved, or to at least get his goodbyes out of the way in case they failed. They learned that his friends could feel it in their hearts, before they dared to look at the new notifications that had appeared on their phones, that their family was no longer coming home; that his urge to help people had finally caught him up in its web and torn the remaining blood from his body and his last breath from his lungs.

They learned all that they had wanted to, and more. They learned more and more and _more_ that they had never thought to know, had never dreamed of knowing, and that they had ever _wanted_ to know. It left them with the new understanding of just how _human_ their heroes were, how easy they could be to bend and break.

They took this understanding and did their best. They could no longer help the Devil, no, that ship had long since sailed, but they could help the others. They could help the other heroes that just wanted to improve their city.

The residents started to leave gifts for them. They would leave out a bag of food, bottles of water, even first aid kits with notes scrawled across the top of them. Things that read _“thank you for taking care of us, hope this helps you,” “take care of yourself, too, we appreciate you,” “no good being dehydrated on the job, take care.”_

These things helped. 

Daredevil’s partner and their former secretary, current journalist, came out a month later with a statement.

_“Matt always wanted to help people… that was all he ever really wanted, why else become a lawyer, right? … Yeah. Matt may be dead, we may be down a hero, but he would be… he would be happy. Knowing that even after his death, he managed to help people. He would be happy.”_

And the truth of it? Matt was.


End file.
